


Keep You With Me

by Send_Reinforcements



Category: Football Commentator RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Woke Up Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5470907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Send_Reinforcements/pseuds/Send_Reinforcements
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael finds himself in a world where he's married to Alexi Lalas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep You With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raumdeuter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raumdeuter/gifts).



Michael wakes up in the middle of a dream to the sound of his phone alarm. He groans and rolls over, reaching for his phone, wishing he could sleep for another couple of hours. It takes him a second of fumbling, but he finally turns off the alarm and slouches back into his pillow. He blinks a few times, looking up at the ceiling. Something about it looks different, he realizes after a moment.

The unfamiliar room around him comes into focus, and Michael feels a spike of adrenaline run through his body. He’s in a pretty nice house, or an apartment maybe. The room is sparse but lived-in, and light is just barely seeping through between the curtains to one side of the bed. There’s someone warm and breathing next to him, and Michael groans, images of past awkward mornings-after passing through his mind. He wasn’t drinking last night, though. He had definitely gone to sleep in his own bed in his own apartment. 

Michael looks down at the man sleeping next to him, who has bright red hair that stirs something in Michael’s memory. Michael holds his breath and tugs down the duvet slightly, revealing the ear and cheekbone of Alexi Lalas. Michael lets out a surprised breath, and touches him on the shoulder to wake him up.

Alexi shifts and comes to consciousness. He blinks. “Michael? What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, rubbing his eyes. 

“I don’t even know where here is,” Michael says.

Alexi pushes the covers down and looks around. “Here is my house,” he says.

“Your house in Los Angeles?” Michael asks, looking around the room again, trying to make sense of what’s happening.

“Yes,” Alexi says. “Seriously, why are you in my bed?”

“I have no idea. I went to sleep in London and woke up here,” Michael says, heartbeat speeding up as he realizes he must be going crazy, because either he’s hallucinating or he’d blacked out and taken a flight to America.

Alexi frowns at him. “Really? You don’t know how you got here?”

  Michael shakes his head, “Not a clue.” He hears his voice wavering, and grasps the duvet, desperate for something to hold on to.  

“Jesus, do you sleepwalk? It's too fucking early for this,” Alexi says, wincing. He looks just as concerned as Michael feels, and Michael doesn’t blame him. "You can stay for coffee as long as you're not going to sleep-murder me."

  “Thank you,” Michael says. He lets out a shallow breath and leans back against the headboard. He finds himself closing his eyes for a second and willing himself to wake up from this strange dream.

“Uh, Michael,” Alexi says from the other side of the bed. Michael opens his eyes and looks over at Alexi, who’s looking at his phone, brow furrowed. “I don’t remember this,” he says, and holds it out for Michael to look at.  

On the phone’s lock screen is a picture of Michael perched on Alexi’s lap, kissing his cheek, Alexi’s arm around his waist. Michael’s never touched Alexi for longer than a friendly shoulder grasp, and he’s certainly never been _that_ close to him. There the picture is, though, of Alexi looking spaced out and happy, with Michael kissing him.  

“What’s going on here?” Michael asks.

 “Something very strange,” Alexi says, taking the phone back from Michael and getting out of bed. Michael finds himself relieved that Alexi is wearing pajama pants, and reassures himself that he’s clothed as well.  

Michael watches Alexi move around the room for a few minutes, examining art on the walls, his TV, and knick-knacks on the side table.  

“I don’t know how to explain this, but everything is different,” Alexi says finally. “That picture over there used to be a black and white print, I hung it up myself, but now it’s something else I’ve never seen before. Some of this stuff, too.” He gestures to the side table. “Hey, wait a second-“ he says, trailing off.  

From where he’s sitting on the bed, Michael can’t see what Alexi is looking at. 

“What is it?”   “Rings. They’re wedding rings,” Alexi says. He turns back to Michael, holding up two shiny bands.

  “You’re not married, are you?” Michael asks. He and Alexi don’t speak that often, especially now that they don’t work together, but Michael would have noticed if he had gotten engaged. 

“No,” Alexi says. He tries on one of the rings, then the other. “This one fits me.” 

A chill goes down Michael’s spine, and he says quietly, “Let me try the other one.”

  Alexi nods and walks over to Michael, holding out the ring. Michael takes it carefully and slides it on. He stares down at the ring glinting on his finger, touches the cold metal lightly with his thumb. Michael can’t find any words that explain the strange mix of shock and rightness that he feels.

“Are we married? How could we not remember getting married?” Alexi says.  

“I don’t know,” Michael says, words catching in his throat. 

“Well, we’re going to have to figure it the fuck out,” Alexi says and lets out a deep sigh. “I’m going to get dressed, feel free to take a shower, the bathroom’s through there.” He gestures to the door standing ajar, and Michael watches him rifle through clothes in the closet. That was a suggestion for him to leave Alexi alone, Michael thinks, so he gets up and grabs his phone, heading for the bathroom.

  “Hey, hold on,” Alexi says. “These must be your clothes.” Michael looks more closely at what Alexi’s holding up, and it’s one of Michael’s grey sweaters. 

“Yeah, that’s mine,” Michael says, reaching out to touch the soft wool. Alexi hands it over, and Michael looks around him into the closet.

  Alexi gestures to one side of the closet. “That stuff is yours.” It’s crowded with both of them standing in the doorway, and Michael ends up brushing shoulders with Alexi more than he feels comfortable with while he’s picking out jeans and a t-shirt. They must stand like this every day, getting ready together, in this strange world where they’re married. Where Michael doesn’t go to sleep every night alone in his empty apartment.  

Michael finds the bathroom down the hall, and fiddles with the hot and cold water long enough to get the water to a reasonable temperature. He catches himself in the mirror, and is almost surprised to recognize himself, just the same as he was yesterday. Michael’s not sure why he expected to see some physical change, evidence of his apparent domesticity. Except for the ring that he’s still wearing, of course.

  The warm water does his state of mind some good as he lets himself zone out. For a moment, he forgets that he’s not at home in London, where he should be.

Michael gets out of the shower and pokes around for an extra towel for a few seconds before he realizes he probably has a towel of his own here. He’s not sure which one, though, he’s not a fan of monogramming, so he opens up a cabinet and grabs a clean towel. He pulls on his clothes that feel so familiar, including the grey sweater that Alexi had handed him. It’s coincidental, he thinks, that Alexi picked out his favorite one.  

The house is nice, two stories with a nice view of the city from the upstairs hallway window, Michael finds. He follows the sounds of Alexi talking to himself downstairs to the kitchen, and sees Alexi opening cupboards at random.

  “Where’s the fucking coffee?” Alexi says, moving jars and cans around. 

Michael can’t help but smile. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Alexi looks over at him and glares. “Michael, I can’t find a single thing in my kitchen. Everything is rearranged, and I’m blaming you,” he says. Michael is comforted to see him annoyed, somehow.

“Maybe I rearranged it when we got married,” Michael says. “How often do you actually cook?”  

Alexi huffs. “I make toast, and cereal.”  

“Yes, sure,” Michael says. “I’ll make breakfast.” He thinks about his kitchen at home for a moment, then goes over to a cabinet near Alexi, opening it to find coffee, tea and a french press. “Here,” he says.

  “Typical,” Alexi mutters, then smiles. “Thanks.”  

“No problem, now get out of my way,” Michael says. 

Michael makes them both omelettes, reaching into drawers and cupboards at ease to find the bowls and pans he needs. The kitchen is nice and spacious, set up exactly how he likes it. There’s goat cheese in the fridge and fresh chives and tomato, and it’s like he’d planned for this. Maybe he had. He could have been planning to kiss Alexi softly in the morning after waking him up, tug on his hair, and push up his shirt to touch him. They would have taken a shower together, then Michael would shoo Alexi away from the kitchen and make them breakfast. 

Only Alexi brushing by Michael to get to the fridge snaps Michael out of his train of thought. 

“That looks great,” Alexi says, pouring himself a glass of juice. “Want some?” he gestures to the glass.

  “Yes, thanks,” Michael says. He gets two plates and serves up the omelettes, and he and Alexi sit at the counter to eat.   

They’re quiet for a few moments, but eventually Alexi says, “You know, I thought this was crazy. Us being married.”  

“It is crazy,” Michael says. He looks over at Alexi and finds him looking softly at Michael.

  “I don’t think it is. I know I drive you nuts, but we worked well together. And I did find you very attractive.”

Michael raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”  

“Yeah,” Alexi says, smirking. 

“I didn’t know that you’re-” Michael trails off.

“Yeah, bi actually,” Alexi says. Michael nods, hearing a hint of something that makes him think that Alexi isn’t very practiced at saying that. Michael doesn’t judge him, though, he isn’t either.

  “Me too.”  

“I guessed, seeing as we’re married,” Alexi says dryly.

Michael laughs. “We did work well together. I wonder when we started dating, in this world.”  

“2012, I’m sure,” Alexi says. “That’s when I was thinking of asking you out.”  

“Seriously? I didn’t know,” Michael says.

Alexi hums in agreement. Maybe Michael was supposed to figure it out, from the way Alexi looked at him. From the way Alexi disagreed with everything he said, and how close they sat together at the bar after work.

“Maybe you should have said something,” Michael says.

“And what would you have said?” Alexi asks, turning to face Michael and raising an eyebrow. 

Michael doesn’t know what he would have said, so he doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans in and touches Alexi’s cheek. He pauses for half a moment to wonder what he’s doing, then kisses Alexi. 

Alexi kisses him back.

Michael wakes up.

It’s cold in his apartment, but light is glaring through his curtains, hurting his eyes when he opens them. Michael’s head is spinning, and he has to catch his breath before he can even think.

  It was a dream. The realization punches through him, and he feels nauseous, not knowing why. He’s relieved, he’s not stuck in a world and house that isn’t his, but accompanying the sense of loss is disorienting.

  From the bedside table, his own bedside table, his phone chirps. Michael reaches over to grab it, and manages to read the text before his screen goes dark.  

Alexi: _I just had the craziest dream about you._

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide!


End file.
